


you're all i need

by vityenka



Series: stay close to me [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Bottom Victor Nikiforov, Canon Compliant, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Falling In Love, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, Inexperienced Katsuki Yuuri, Inexperienced Victor Nikiforov, M/M, Mutual Pining, Porn with Feelings, Post-Cup of China, Top Katsuki Yuuri, god theyre so in love it's adorable, the kiss heard round the world, they figure it out together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:02:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25128187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vityenka/pseuds/vityenka
Summary: There are moments between the ice and Viktor’s lips, snatches of memory that flicker in and out of each interview, each handshake, each congratulations that seem to stretch on and on. For a moment, everything had been weightless. It felt like a second quad flip, falling flat on his back with hands cupping his head and his spine, protecting him and the press of Viktor’s mouth on his. Viktor’s smile, the upturn of his cupid’s bow lips and the barest hint of white teeth flashing. His boyish grin.The Cup of China, and what happens after.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Series: stay close to me [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1867816
Comments: 24
Kudos: 143





	you're all i need

**Author's Note:**

> i really like fics that explore the moments after the kiss at the cup of china. i wanna know what their conversation was like! what did they do! enjoy some good old smut with feelings please, because i love these two. ps: title is from the 1975's fallingforyou. let me know what you think <33333

There are moments between the ice and Viktor’s lips, snatches of memory that flicker in and out of each interview, each handshake, each congratulations that seem to stretch on and on. For a moment, everything had been weightless. It felt like a second quad flip, falling flat on his back with hands cupping his head and his spine, protecting him and the press of Viktor’s mouth on his. Viktor’s smile, the upturn of his cupid’s bow lips and the barest hint of white teeth flashing. His boyish grin. 

Those pieces of memory Yuuri pieces together to understand the gist of what he’s said between the medal ceremony and the hotel. Viktor’s large hand on the small of his back, whispering in his ear and saying aloud, “Yuuri’s had a very long day and is very tired! We’ll be going now!” The flash of lights behind Yuuri’s eyes, the flash of blue so close he can taste the ocean. Phichit waving across the lobby where Viktor ushers him out to a taxi, still pressed close. Yuuri’s lips taste like Viktor’s lip balm and there’s an indent where Viktor bit him hitting the ice, drawing blood. Yuuri sucks at the mark, tasting the copper that had bloomed across his tongue. Viktor had tasted like coffee, too. 

Beijing passes by in colors, blurs of lights that only register as they blink from existence. Viktor’s hand is warm in Yuuri’s, fingers tangled together like they’re two parts of one whole. It isn’t quiet when they reach the hotel; taxis and people blend together to create a mix of sounds, a wave that hits Yuuri once he steps out of the taxi’s bubble, Viktor handing over a too-large sum of money. Yuuri watches the transaction, only to find Viktor hasn’t looked at the man once, his eyes locked on Yuuri. Never take your eyes off me, Yuuri once said in a crowded rink, ice waiting under his blades. Viktor hadn’t looked away, then, either. I would never, Viktor had whispered back, thick accent curling around the words Yuuri had dreamed of all his life. Words fail him now, Viktor’s hand, large and calloused, squeezing around Yuuri’s. Yuuri leads him into the hotel, through the lobby and into the lift, where the door closes and they collide. Viktor’s mouth is on his immediately, breath hot in the too-small space. Yuuri crowds him up against the mirrored panel, presses his back into the railing. There’s the clack of teeth and Viktor gasps, digs his nails into Yuuri’s hip where it still smarts from the flubbed quad flip. Yuuri moans, mouth opening under Viktor’s, who slips his tongue in at the first chance he gets. 

“Yuuri,” Viktor whispers as the doors slide open with a ding. Yuuri steps away, swallows hard and leads Viktor again down the hall to their room. The double beds are still rumpled from this morning, Yuuri’s more so from Viktor forcing him into it and laying on top of him. Yuuri has learned in the months of living with Viktor Nikiforov that he is terrible at making his bed. 

“Help me push them together?” Yuuri asks when they get inside, turning to face Viktor, who’s standing in the entryway with his coat on, looking rumpled and lost. Viktor takes a breath, toes off his shoes, and nods. Together they shove the beds towards the center of the room, and when they’re done Yuuri crosses over to Viktor, lays a hand on his chest and kisses his strong chin. “Thank you.” 

“Anything for you,” Viktor breathes, laying his own hand over Yuuri’s. Yuuri blushes and smiles, pleased. “Let me help you out of your costume.” Viktor runs his hands up Yuuri’s sides, under his Team Japan jacket and slides it off Yuuri’s shoulders, until it lays crumpled on the floor. Next comes the costume’s top, deep indigo caught in Viktor’s grip, where he folds it gently and places it on the chair. Next are the trousers, and the socks and shoes, until Yuuri’s in nothing but his boxer-briefs. Viktor is still far too dressed, and Yuuri takes his coat off and throws it over the chair; sets to working open the dress shirt, folding it with the same care Viktor showed towards his costume. He undresses Viktor until he’s just as exposed as Yuuri, pale skin cast in the shadows of the room.

“Kiss me?” He asks, stepping close until their chests are almost pressed together. He rests his hands on Viktor’s hips, squeezing the soft skin of his waist. Viktor does kiss him, a gentle press of lips, Yuuri’s still chapped slightly from the ice. Yuuri breathes out and slides a hand around to run his fingers up Viktor’s spine. Viktor, in turn, threads a hand into Yuuri’s hair and another cupping his face. 

When they pull away, Viktor’s eyes are soft as he looks at Yuuri and says, “You are so beautiful.” His voice is barely above a whisper, sinking into Yuuri’s bones and settling there, believable. “I wish I could explain to you how I feel when I look at you,” Viktor continues. “You are everything.” Yuuri swallows the burn rising in his throat, the sting of his eyes, and kisses Viktor again, and again. He walks him back towards the bed, laying Viktor onto the sheets. The next kiss is sweet, the slide of their lips curling like fire in Yuuri’s chest, blooming outward and reaching towards the sun—Viktor—following him wherever he is, under Yuuri, blue eyes wide and wanting. 

“I want you so much,” Yuuri confesses, the truth of it seizing him. He wants the press of Viktor’s body, his large hands searching, long fingers winding their way through Yuuri until he’s shaking. He wants Viktor’s melodrama, his cowlick that stands on end in the mornings; wants the messy, disorganized Viktor that exists only outside of his abilities as a coach. He wants the Viktor who writes everything down in his planner, scatterbrained to the point of self-awareness and the tackling of it. He wants Viktor, whose eyes are half-lidded in the dim lamp-light, cheeks and ears flushed and pleased, the red traveling down his neck and to his heaving chest.

Viktor cups his face in response, a whispered, “I always want you,” and another kiss, this one deep and slow, and there are so many kinds of kisses they’ve already shared. It hasn’t even been a day yet, and Yuuri knows the swipe of Viktor’s tongue, the soft sigh he lets out whenever Yuuri sucks at his bottom lip. This, and every other place they’re touching, it’s all on fire, flames licking up Yuuri’s body until he’s warm all over. 

Yuuri sits up, breathes, drinks in the sight of Viktor nearly naked under him, long expanses of abdomen, a bare neck, eyes wide with desire. There’s a smattering of freckles across Viktor’s shoulders, and if Yuuri leans close enough, over the bridge of his long nose, as well. He wonders what he looks like to Viktor, if he’s as beautiful as Viktor makes him feel. “I’ve never done this before,” Yuuri admits. He places a hand in the center of Viktor’s chest, the dip between his pecs. Viktor swallows, licks his lips.

“Neither have I,” comes Viktor’s confession, startling Yuuri. 

He blinks down at Viktor. “Really?” Viktor nods and blushes, tips of his ears burning red. “But, you’re you.” 

“Yes,” Viktor concedes. He runs a hand down Yuuri’s arm, “and you’re you.” 

“I never,” Yuuri takes a breath. “I never wanted anyone to get close enough.” 

Viktor smiles up at him, a gentle, soft upturn of his lips. “I never had the time,” he takes Yuuri’s hand, laces their fingers and presses a kiss to the knuckles. “And, no one ever saw me for who I was, you see. I was a trophy, something to conquer.” He studies the twine of their fingers, how Yuuri’s hand fits in his. “You make me feel...human, Yuuri. You see me for who I am,” he cups Yuuri’s face with his other hand, running a thumb across Yuuri’s cheekbone. Yuuri shivers. “It makes all the difference.” Yuuri kisses all over his face, then. Jaw, chin, cheekbone, nose. His eyelids, his forehead and his lips, then, soft and pliant, wanting to follow where he goes. 

“Yuuri,” Viktor murmurs. “I want to be yours, in every way. Will you give me that?” 

“Yes,” Yuuri breathes. His throat feels tight, but he kisses Viktor again, running a hand up the length of Viktor’s chest, cupping his neck, spreading his fingers along the like of Viktor’s jaw. From there, he angles his hips downward, slots them together, the brush of their cocks through the fabric sending shivers up his spine. Viktor’s thighs are tensed and Yuuri sits back on them, stares down at the straining fabric. He brushes his hand along it, up the length of Viktor’s cock, feels the prominent vein and the slight curve. It makes his mouth dry, wants to taste, to devour. But not now—he wants to make this as special for Viktor as it is for him. In the low light, Viktor looks absolute; his hair mussed, cowlick making an appearance, lips kiss-swollen and parted. In the back of Yuuri’s mind he wonders, is this what the poets wrote about? The love he feels in that moment fills him up like a champagne bottle, bubbling at the top and if the cork is pulled, it’ll overflow, pour out of him until there’s nothing left. 

He leans in, mouths at Viktor’s jaw, and hooks his thumbs in the scant underwear. Viktor lifts his hips, wriggles out of them, and Yuuri pulls them down his long legs, tosses them off in a corner somewhere. Viktor’s cock hits his stomach, flushed red and desperate. It’s thicker than Yuuri’s, but the same length, and Yuuri lets out a soft oh, imagining the feeling of Viktor inside him. He wraps his fingers around it gently, running his thumb up the length of it. Viktor shudders, gasps and bucks his hips. It’s thrilling to feel the pulse of Viktor under his hands and know how badly he wants Yuuri. How badly Yuuri wants him, in return. He slides down Viktor’s body, licks his lips and presses a kiss to the head of Viktor’s cock. 

“Yuuri,” Comes the punched out gasp, the strained whine. Viktor clenches a fist in the sheets and holds onto Yuuri’s shoulder with the other. Yuuri runs his tongue up the shaft, swirling it over the cockhead, and then takes Viktor into his mouth. It’s heavy on his tongue, incomparable, and the taste is heady. Yuuri works his throat open, swallows experimentally, and Viktor whines. He tangles his fingers in Yuuri’s hair, holding him down as Yuuri works his mouth around Viktor. He groans and pulls off, sucking his lip into his mouth and swallowing. Already, there’s a soreness in his jaw as he dives back in, bobbing his head. It’s sloppy, but Viktor doesn’t seem to mind, by the way he’s whimpering and moaning, begging for more. 

Yuuri pulls off again, but this time he fumbles for the drawer in the nightstand, finds lube stashed there. Viktor shivers, arching his hips up as Yuuri settles back down between them. This time, he slicks his fingers up, sinks his mouth back down onto Viktor’s cock, and when Viktor lifts his hips, he slips a finger around to circle Viktor’s rim. Viktor whimpers, turns his head to the side and screws his eyes shut. “Is this okay?” Yuuri asks, pulling off. Viktor nods violently, cheeks flushed and eyes bright as he snaps his head down to look at Yuuri. 

“It’s so good,” Viktor whispers, voice raspy. “Please don’t stop.” Yuuri kisses his hip bone, sucks a bruise into it, bites and presses forward, finger meeting some resistance before it pops past. Viktor’s tight around him, almost unbearably, but he begins working him open. It’s slow going, but Yuuri continues mouthing at his cock as he does. Finally, he presses a second finger in and Viktor moans, hands tightening in Yuuri’s hair, hips bucking. “Oh,” Viktor cries out as Yuuri brushes past that bundle of nerves he’s heard about. It isn’t easy to find, and his fingers are angled at an almost uncomfortable angle, but he pushes on, Viktor shaking. Suddenly, Viktor tenses and his cock pulses in Yuuri’s mouth, and he comes, ropes of white that Yuuri swallows, and when he can’t, his come hits Yuuri’s lips. Viktor throws his head back, screws his eyes shut. 

Yuuri blinks up at him, eyes wide. “Sorry,” Viktor mumbles, embarrassed. Yuuri shakes his head quickly. 

“I want you to feel good.” He hesitates, “Was it? Good?” 

“More than,” Viktor strokes his thumb down Yuuri’s cheek, runs it over his bottom lip to collect the come still sitting there. Yuuri, in a moment of bravery, sucks Viktor’s thumb into his mouth. It’s salty, the taste still unfamiliar, but not altogether unpleasant. 

“Can I keep going?” Yuuri asks, sitting up. His fingers are still inside Viktor, slowly thrusting in and out. Viktor hums and nods, smiling dopily. 

“Please.” 

Yuuri adds a third finger, the stretch becoming easier, until Viktor’s cock is half hard again and he’s begging Yuuri for more. This time, Yuuri grabs the condom in the drawer, and rolls it over his cock. He slicks himself up and Viktor wraps his arms around Yuuri’s neck. He draws his knees to his chest, Yuuri leaning over him, and guiding his cock to Viktor’s entrance. “Are you sure?” he asks. When Viktor nods once again, Yuuri presses in. It’s like his finger, meeting that resistance at first, before he can worm the cockhead in and finally push past. 

It’s unlike anything he’s ever felt. The heat is unbearable, and for all the preparation, it’s still so tight. Viktor gasps, tensing and shuddering. “Yuuri,” he whimpers, pupils blown wide. 

“Are you okay?” Yuuri asks, staring down at Viktor, who nods quickly and moans. 

“Keep going,” he begs, scrambling for purchase when Yuuri pushes forward, and finally seats himself fully. 

Yuuri sucks in a breath, hissing. “Fuck,” he groans, “You’re so…” It takes everything in him to keep still while Viktor adjusts, and while Yuuri does his best to not come like he’s a teenager. He grips the base of his cock, staving off the impending orgasm. “I’m not going to last long,” he warns, desperate for Viktor to understand how good it feels. 

“Neither am I,” Viktor groans, sinking his teeth into Yuuri’s shoulder. “Move, Yuuri,” Viktor demands, bearing down onto Yuuri’s cock. That’s all it takes, and he’s snapping his hips forward, Viktor clutching at him, nails biting. Yuuri kisses Viktor, then, sloppy and groaning into each others’ mouths. It’s the best feeling, Viktor’s legs wrapped around his hips and heels digging into his lower back as Yuuri thrusts into him. Viktor clenches around his cock, then, and it’s all Yuuri can do not to pitch forward and collapse. 

“I’m close,” he gasps out, sucking a bruise into Viktor’s jaw, rolling his hips forward. There, he hits those nerves that make Viktor shake apart under him, coming all over himself and Yuuri with a cry, cock twitching over and over. It knocks the wind out of Yuuri, the tightening of Viktor’s muscles and then he’s coming, spilling into the condom. He braces himself on the bed over Viktor and fucks through it, gasping and whining until he’s got nothing left but the oversensitivity coursing through him. Slowly, he pulls out, Viktor grasping for him as soon as he’s rolled off. Yuuri pulls the condom off and ties it, throwing it in the bin. 

“Yuuri,” Viktor murmurs over and over into his neck, pressing soft kisses along his collarbone. Yuuri hums, flushed and happy, and tucks himself into Viktor’s side, splaying his hands over the plane of Viktor’s stomach. “I’m so glad it’s you,” Viktor says, voice muffled. 

“What’s me?” Yuuri questions, eyes heavy and body loose. He feels like he’s been skating for hours, exhaustion clouding over him, but in the best way possible. 

Viktor brushes hair off Yuuri’s face, sticky with sweat. “Everything,” Viktor replies, as if that makes sense. “You’re everything, remember?” 

Yuuri gazes up at him, all earnest blue eyes. He’s soft and open like this, happy in Yuuri’s arms. “I do,” he says. “When we get back to Hasetsu, I want to work on something.” 

Viktor’s eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, endearing crows feet. “I can’t wait.” He wraps himself around Yuuri. With a silver medal in his bag and Viktor’s arms around him, they sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed!! i had a lot of fun writing this! let me know what you thought in the comments!!! it makes me really happy to hear your thoughts. see you next level or in the next fic <3333333 ps: the "working on something" yuuri refers to is the pairs skate! i might write a companion fic where they work on it together *o*


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